


Slip of the Tongue

by winterwaters



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drunk Clarke, Drunken Confessions, Drunkenness, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, POV Multiple, Prompt Fic, Some sexual tension I think, Tumblr Prompt, it's all ridiculous, only happy things, ridiculous fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-20 11:58:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3649500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwaters/pseuds/winterwaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the Tumblr prompts: "Things I said that you weren't meant to hear" (chapter 1) and "Things you said when you were drunk" (chapter 2)</p><p>Chapter 1 - Clarke helps Bellamy shave and unintentionally reveals a detail about herself in the process.<br/>Chapter 2 - Bellamy was determined to get Clarke drunk. He just never expected everything that came after it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You weren't supposed to hear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [agentrromanoff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentrromanoff/gifts).



> These were soooo much fun to write! I'm completely hopeless when it comes to these two... all shameless fluff. thank you for the prompts dear, as always! hope you enjoy :))

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke helps Bellamy shave and unintentionally reveals a detail about herself in the process. 
> 
> (or, Bellamy has a beard, and Clarke likes it)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I was kidding, but that's literally it.

Clarke had passed the room in the corner of the Ark two times before she realized someone was actually occupying the small space. The third time she walked by, finally having transported all the supplies to the med bay, the door had crept ajar. A familiar broad form was bent over the broken sink, his face scrunched in concentration.

Confused, she inched closer to see a small circular mirror propped up against the wall. The reflection showed Bellamy’s hands raised to his soap-covered cheeks, holding a blue razor. Oh. That made more sense. But she could tell the odd angle wasn’t doing anything to help his back, which he’d strained the other day while lifting the heavy crates she’d specifically warned him not to.

Looking around at the empty hallway, Clarke considered a moment longer. But when Bellamy winced slightly and straightened with a sigh, her knuckles were rapping on the door frame without a second thought.

He turned in surprise, his mouth lifting at the corners. “Hey princess.”

“Nice hideout.” She grinned. “Need some help?”

“Uh…” Bellamy looked surprised at the offer, but he couldn’t exactly hide his relief, either. That was enough of an answer for her.

Easing inside, she shut the door behind her, belatedly realizing the space was no larger than that of a tiny closet. Bellamy stepped to the side of the sink, leaning back against the lone counter. For a moment, she thought he might just ask her to hold the mirror at eye-level, but then he handed the razor over. She offered a small smile to let him know she appreciated the gesture of trust.

Realizing she needed to be much closer to accomplish her task, she took a few steps forward - and found herself standing in the vee of his legs. _Well. This is new._ He was warm, always so warm, and now the heat radiated off him in waves. All she wanted to do was get closer, let him wrap her up in that comforting hold that had been happening more and more lately. As she took a deep breath, she absently noted how his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed. Clarke nearly decided to flee - who needed integrity, these days? - but made herself stay where she was. _You've seen Reapers,_ she reminded herself. _You can deal with a boy._

When her hand came up to lightly cradle his jaw, Bellamy flinched and started, nearly making her jump back in response. “You’re freezing!” Somehow he made it sound like an accusation, and her mouth drew into a thin line.

“Not by choice,” she retorted. “Stop being such a baby.”

A corner of his mouth crooked up as he huffed out a small laugh. Then he enveloped her free hand between both his larger ones, rubbing back and forth across her skin as if she was a match that would ignite.

It was her turn to gulp. “Stay still,” she warned.

Bellamy didn’t comment on the tremor in her voice, only nodding once. The tip of the razor started high on his face, at the mid-point of his ear, before swiping down at an angle. She rinsed the blade in the sink before returning to his skin. Each swipe revealed a new path of olive skin, now and then interrupted by a dusting of freckles.

Though Clarke would never admit it out loud, she would kind of miss the scruffy look. It had made him look older, yes, but if anything it had accentuated the already sharp lines of his face. Sometimes he would be just standing across camp and she’d get ridiculously distracted by the sight. More than once she'd found herself pause whatever she was doing to watch the way the sunlight hit his face, creating all sorts of angles and shadows that made her fingers itch. All she wanted to do was hunker down somewhere and draw him for hours. 

Well, not just draw.

The beard was an endless source of distraction in an entirely different manner, too, one that she couldn't completely come to terms with. Bellamy had a habit of standing decidedly close when they were talking, whether it was discussing the latest issues or just recapping their day. He'd often lean over her shoulder or bend to whisper in her ear when they were around others. It wasn't something she minded at all - if anything she welcomed it. But recently when he got close, the coarse stubble would brush against her skin, leaving her breathless and unnerved and tingling at the thought of that same stubble brushing _elsewhere_ , and, well, that was nothing short of toecurling. Which was an entirely separate problem in itself.

Unconsciously, Clarke wetted her lips, doing her best to keep her gaze from wandering up to Bellamy’s beautiful, increasingly curious dark eyes that were burning a hole right through her. She'd been silent for too long, she realized. Her mind cast around for a safe topic.

“So Miller was saying he and a few others want to start making regular trips to Tondc,” she said eventually, proud that her voice came out steady. “I think it might be a good idea. They can continue to train there, maybe even trade a little more before winter comes.”

Bellamy only murmured in agreement, not moving his mouth until the razor finished its path. His hands still cupped hers, trying to force heat back into her limb. Little did he know that other parts of her were plenty warm - practically on fire. Clarke turned to rinse the blade again, taking a little longer than necessary.

“The chill’s definitely moving in,” he mused. “We could use more furs. I’ll increase the hunting rotations.” She nodded, moving back to his cheek, but he gently grasped her wrist before she could move. “Are you keeping warm enough?”

“Wh-what?”

“At night. Are you keeping warm?” Bellamy asked again, concerned. 

“Oh. Yeah, I’m fine,” she tried to brush it off but he kept hold of her. “Really,” she insisted. “I’m alright. I’m usually so dead asleep I don’t register a thing.”

A corner of his mouth lifted. “Okay. But make sure you tell me if that changes,” he said, and she had to smile. Then his brow knit together quizzically. “That’s strange. Your pulse is racing, but your hands are still too cold.”

His fingers were tapping over her wrist in a way that made Clarke gulp again. “It’s normal. My hands are always cold.” That didn’t explain her pulse at all, but oh well. She shook the razor a little, indicating he should let go. Though he finally did, his eyes continued to study her, so she searched for a new subject and ended up fixating on what was right in front of her. 

“I bet this beard of yours would have come in handy during the winter,” she teased lightly.

“I know right? At first it was just laziness, really, but then I figured why not keep it. O's always calling me an old man anyways.”

Clarke couldn’t help but ask. “So what changed?” She tried to keep her voice light and normal, not noticing how his eyes flickered curiously over her when she turned to wash the razor again. She was nearly done now, so she should probably step back, away from his body heat and away from the freckles on his face that called to her fingers like a connect-the-dots of the best kind… _Focus, Clarke!_

“I don’t know, really,” Bellamy was saying. “It just got too damn hot and scratchy after a while. Decided I’d rather face the cold,” he grinned. “Plus I think everyone hated it anyways.”

“Not everyone,” she said without thinking.

They both froze a second later. Blood rushed into her cheeks as she stared up in shock. Bellamy’s surprise lasted only moments before transforming into sheer delight. 

“Really?” He asked with a wide grin.

Her brain scrambled for something, _anything_. “I- I, uh…” _fuck fuck fuck_ “I heard things, you know, the girls are always chattering away about this or that.” She attempted to shrug casually despite her burning face, wringing water from the razor a little too hard.

Catching his amused, increasingly cocky expression, she knew he didn’t believe her one bit. Desperate, Clarke did the only thing she could - she got mad. “You know it’s really quite annoying, trying to do my job when everyone just wants to gossip about the latest trend in Bellamy-land,” she snapped. 

His mouth quirked to the side, gleeful. “Bellamy-land?” He repeated.

“Shut up. As if you don’t egg them on, with that shit-eating grin. You know how irritating it is to listen to Kara go _on and on_ about how you saved her from falling off the ridge? Or how Holly details the many ways in which she’s gotten herself onto your patrols?” _And how she plans to get into your pants?_

That last part wasn’t supposed to leave her mouth, but it boy did it ever, the bitterness echoing in the small space. Clarke winced immediately. She was basically handing him ammunition for him to take the killshot.

Bellamy wore a look of complete satisfaction, as if he knew all her frantic thoughts already. His fingers tightened around her wrist, now trapping her erratic pulse on purpose. “Careful, princess,” he murmured. “Keep talking like that and someone might think you’re jealous.”

“Then someone would be very stupid,” she replied shakily. “Are you stupid, Bellamy?”

The crooked smile that curled his mouth was so hopeful that she nearly lost her breath. “I’ve been known to be incredibly stupid,” he said, and kissed her.

Clarke dropped the razor, intending to push him back. Instead her hands slid up his chest of their own accord, winding around his neck as she pulled herself to her tiptoes. It was her who moaned low in her throat, her who pressed closer, her tongue that pushed into his mouth first, exploring its sweet warmth with an eagerness that made his fingers carve indents into her hips. 

A loud knock on the door startled her out of it, and she stared up at Bellamy, flushed and panting. Her arms couldn’t seem to unlock from his shoulders, and he didn’t seem to have any intention of letting go. His mouth was red and full and utterly kissable - her doing.

“Bellamy?” A voice sounded outside, and Clarke flinched when she realized it was Kane’s. Hastily, she stumbled backwards, breaking out of Bellamy's grip. “We need you by the gate, now,” the older man called.

Bellamy was still staring at her, astonished, and if his blown pupils were any indication, aroused. He stepped forward, crowding her against the wall until her chest brushed his with every breath. Just as he was leaning down again, Kane barked his name once more and they both jumped.

“Yeah, alright. Be right there,” Bellamy replied hoarsely. He was still looking at her, and for a second she couldn't decide whether she wanted the floor or Bellamy to swallow her whole. 

"Hurry up." The footsteps rang out as he strode away. Clarke took advantage of Bellamy's dazed reaction to slip out of his grip, stammering uselessly and not even processing what came out of her mouth before she turned and fled out the door in the opposite direction.

She managed to avoid him for all of two days, aside from quick glances across camp that nearly made her overheat on the spot. The nights weren’t much better. When she wasn’t reliving the moment over and over - _god, how was it possible for his lips to be that soft_ \- she was thinking of the scratchy stubble grazing her skin.

Either way, she didn’t sleep much.

On the third day, Bellamy entered the med bay with one of the younger recruits, helping the boy limp over to a bench. Even as she hurried over to help, a completely useless part of her mind processed the shadow of stubble that covered his jawline once more. _Stop that!_ Settling the boy on a bench, Bellamy patted his shoulder with a few short words. Then he looked up, meeting Clarke’s eyes for a split second. Her face could have passed for a tomato, it was _that_ bright. His eyes crinkled.

Octavia, bless her heart, picked that moment to burst in. “Shit, Darren are you okay?” She strode over and put a hand on his shoulder as he tried to smile up at her. “I told you, swing up, not out,” she scolded, not for the first time. 

Bellamy was grinning proudly at his sister while she spoke, though his gaze wandered back over to Clarke only moments later. Hastily, she knelt to check the young boy’s leg, softly asking him questions while she evaluated the injury. A few minutes later, a grunt made her peek up. 

Octavia wrinkled her nose and tapped Bellamy’s cheek. “Are you growing that thing out again? I thought it was gone?”

Clarke quickly dropped her head again, letting the curtain of hair hide her face. But there was no missing the smile in Bellamy's voice when he answered, “I changed my mind.”


	2. Pinky Swear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy was determined to get Clarke drunk. What he hadn’t expected was everything that came after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this took me forever, sorry! As usual, AU where they're not all messed up and everyone's out of MW, because reasons.  
> hope you enjoy!

Bellamy was determined to get Clarke drunk tonight.

They’d finally gotten their people out of the sick hole that was Mount Weather, the adults were for once _not_ being a gigantic pain in the ass, and the Grounder truce hadn’t just lasted, it was thriving - on both sides. As far as he was concerned, that was cause for celebration. Everyone seemed to agree.

Everyone except his princess. 

_Of course_ she wasn’t. Of course while everyone else was drinking and laughing and letting off steam in the way a celebration called for, _she_ was seated by the fire, furiously working away at the next item on her to-do list. 

The girl was impossible. And yet, he just couldn’t stay away. 

She rubbed her arms against the new chill in the air, wrinkling her nose, and he just _knew_ that she was making a mental note to send Miller’s group out for more furs the next day. So when she continued scribbling in the small notebook, forehead creased and lips pursed in thought, he decided enough was enough. Grabbing a heavy blanket from an abandoned tent, he made his way over to her in a few long strides. 

Tonight was not for thinking. Rationale and logic were to be left far behind in favor of carefree silliness. It had been far too long since she’d partaken in anything that involved simply _feeling._

Clarke didn't look up as he approached, likely assuming he'd just start talking immediately - not an entirely unfair assumption, he had to admit. So when he settled the blanket onto her shoulders without a word, she jumped and dropped her notes in surprise. Bellamy chuckled, lifting an eyebrow. “Thank you,” she said, pleased.

With a wry grin, he sat down next to her, picking up the booklet and handing it back. Setting aside her notes, she shifted closer and pulled his still-wrapped hands into her lap - to check the day-old bandages that he'd earned trying to shield some of the younger kids from an unexpected cave-in. Her fingers traced the wraps lightly, and he remembered again how her voice had seemed to shake uncontrollably even in the midst of scolding, yet how her hands had been completely steady. It was just one more thing she wouldn’t stop worrying about.

“I’m okay, Clarke.” He squeezed her fingers until she nodded and let go. His hands were suddenly cold, and he clasped them together so he wouldn’t do something stupid like pull her back and kiss the daylights out of her. These days, the thought wasn’t as rare as he liked to pretend it was.

“So what’s all this?” He nodded to the papers.

“Just some notes for myself. I’ve been trying to keep track of nearby plants that could be helpful to make medicines or poultices. Lincoln and Nyko have been helping me slowly identify those that they know. We should probably stock up before winter.”

“Good idea,” he agreed. “Maybe we can go look around tomorrow. We haven’t been out in a few days.” They’d been too busy with everything going on within the camp - that, and trying to keep the adults and kids from sending each other to medical when things got too heated. 

Clarke smiled, apparently having the same thought. “That would be nice.” 

“Alright, that’s settled then.” Bellamy reached over and plucked the book out of her hands, tucking it into his coat pocket. Seeing her about to protest, he put a finger to her lips. She stilled immediately. He tried very hard not to concentrate on her soft mouth under his fingertip.

“You need to stop thinking and start drinking,” he said firmly. He saw her eye roll coming long before it happened. 

“Bellamy, I can’t.” The protest sounded weak even to his ears. “There’s so much left to do.”

“And you think it’s all going to get done tonight? Clarke, you’re not superwoman. You come pretty damn close, but even you need a break.” She smiled at that and looked away, but not before he missed the longing in her eyes. She was tired, and she so badly wanted to relax - but she wasn’t letting herself do so.

Bellamy shifted closer. “Look, princess. All of our problems are still going to be here when you wake up tomorrow. In fact, I’m pretty sure there will be many more.” He bumped her shoulder lightly. “So go enjoy this while you can. You deserve it.”

Clarke’s brow furrowed as she considered it. It wasn’t like he was holding his breath or anything… Finally, she relented with a small smile. “Okay.” His heart leapt. Then she added, “But only if you enjoy it, too.”

He hadn’t been expecting that. He started to shake his head, his mind already harping on patrols and the night guard shift, but she grabbed his coat collar to pull his face down to hers. That alluring birthmark above her lip was now inches from his mouth. He dragged his eyes up to hers.

“Don’t you dare say you’ll have your fun with the Grounders,” Clarke warned, and Bellamy grinned in surprise, recalling his words from a unity day long ago. She raised an expectant eyebrow. “I’m not drinking unless you are. Your call.” 

With a small chuckle - _of course_ his princess would have terms for _drinking_ \- he pried her hand away. “You drive a hard bargain.” She smiled happily as he stood. “First round’s on me.”

When he returned with their drinks, Clarke was surrounded by a few others. He nodded at Raven, who was practically sitting in Wick’s lap but stubbornly pretending not to, and smiled at his sister. Clarke patted the spot next to her and he sat, handing her a drink. When she nearly dropped the cup, smiling shakily, he blinked in surprise. It wasn’t like her to be so clumsy. 

A smile formed on his face as he realized what had happened. “Did you start without me, princess?” Bellamy nudged her teasingly.

“Her fault,” she pointed in the general direction of Raven, who waved cheerily. 

“I decided she needed to take a shot. Or two.” _You can thank me later,_ was what she left unsaid.

Bellamy made a note to get Raven those spare parts she’d been hounding him about. “Well, that’s not fair. You got one for me?”

Raven grinned and smacked Wick on the shoulder. “Go get the bottle.”

Unfazed, he lifted her off his lap and onto the ground. “Yes ma’am.” At the last minute, he grabbed her chin and planted a hard kiss on her before sauntering off. Raven’s slack-jawed expression had them all laughing for several minutes. Bellamy’s gaze kept drifting back to the girl next to him. He hadn’t seen Clarke smile in so long, let alone heard her laugh. 

It should happen more often, he decided.

His sister’s eyes were on him when he finally looked away from Clarke. Her grin was far too mischievous for his liking. Thankfully, Jasper and Monty chose that moment to crash next to her - literally. Jasper had another bottle in his hand, which was already half-empty, and his eyes were glazed as he threw an arm around Octavia’s shoulders. Bellamy tensed out of habit, but eased up when she didn’t seem to care. These days he was okay with anything that made her happy.

A hand on his arm made him turn to Clarke, whose crooked smile made his heart race. “Am I relaxed enough yet?”

“You tell me.” 

She looped her arm through his, resting her head on his jacket. Her whole body leaned against his, flush from hip to knee. He nearly sighed. _I could get used to this..._ It wasn't the first time the thought had entered his mind. It took everything he had not to brush a kiss to her hair. Everything came so naturally with Clarke lately.

To his relief, nobody commented on their sudden closeness, though he again felt Octavia’s knowing glance. He finished his drink quickly, just as Wick returned with more. Raven cheered, handing him a small shot glass - who knew where she’d found that. Bellamy knocked back the liquor, feeling the heat sear his throat instantly. His body warmed as the alcohol hit, and he held out his cup for a refill. But before he could tip it back, Clarke snatched it from his hand and downed the shot, smugly placing the glass back in his open palm.

Bellamy grinned at Raven. “I guess we’re gonna need more of that.”

As the night continued, Monty regaled them with tales of Jasper’s heroic exploits inside Mount Weather - his plan to trick the guards before turning on them, how he’d smooth-talked so many into believing he was still innocent. Clarke looked on like a proud mother, though Bellamy still caught the sadness in her eyes. He knew what it was for. He didn’t like the idea of the other kids having to go through that any more than she did. They shouldn’t have had to shoulder the burden of such things.

He leaned over until his lips nearly touched her ear. “No sadness allowed, princess.”

She jumped, embarrassed at being caught. “How’d you know?”

He tapped her nose lightly. “I know you.” 

She blinked, and then a sweet smile crossed her face. Bellamy let himself look at her a moment longer before finishing his drink in a quick gulp. It was getting more difficult not to kiss her.

He wasn’t one to get drunk too easily, but not having eaten dinner certainly helped. He’d given his share to Monroe, whose collarbones were becoming far too prominent for his liking. Not too soon after, he’d watched Clarke hand her plate off to a young patient from the Ark. They were much more alike than they ever could have guessed.

Everyone continued to talk and laugh and drink far into the night. Nobody wanted to sleep. It was as if they all knew this wouldn’t happen again for a long time. So it was mutually agreed that they would delay reality for as long as they could.

Bellamy was beyond thankful that he’d gotten Clarke drunk. What he hadn’t expected was for her to get so handsy. Or for it to be such a turn on. She kept touching his shoulder, his arm, his hair - her hand had even landed dangerously high on his thigh at one point. Currently, she was snuggled into his side, arms firmly wrapped around his waist. His arm was draped over her shoulder, playing with her long hair. And it was, as cheesy as it sounded, the best feeling in the world. 

He prayed nobody else would remember this in the morning - well, besides him. He was never going to forget this. A loopy grin overtook his face.

“What are you smiling at?” Clarke’s chin rested on his shoulder, her face inches from his. His eyes again drifted to the small brown dot at the corner of her mouth - a beauty mark, his mother used to call it. She was certainly right about that.

“Bell?” Even drunk, his princess managed to muster up some worry for him.

He squeezed her shoulder, trying to ignore how his body had warmed at the sound of his nickname coming from her mouth. “Just thinking, that’s all.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “I’m gonna need more than that.”

He grinned. “Nosy, are we?”

“Someone has to be,” she quirked her head to the side with a charming smile, and it occurred to him that they were quite possibly flirting. 

Life was weird.

Then a loud snore sounded to his right, and they both turned to find the source. Clarke giggled. Jasper was out cold on the ground, looking far too comfortable with one cheek all but smashed into the dirt. To his right, Monty swayed side to side, ready to tip over any minute. Looking around, Bellamy had just noticed that Raven and Wick had disappeared as well when Octavia rose on somewhat shaky legs. 

“Come on, you.” She hooked an arm under Monty’s elbow, hauling him upright. “Let’s find Jas a blanket and some empty beds for us.”

Bellamy was about to untangle himself from Clarke to help when his sister looked over her shoulder with a grin. “Take care of him,” she said to Clarke, and he wondered why it sounded like she was giving permission. Clarke’s grip tightened around his torso.

“Always do,” she declared, and he shook his head at Octavia. She was playing troublemaker right now and loving every second. 

“See you in the morning,” she sang, slowly walking off with Monty.

Bellamy looked down at Clarke, who appeared to have no intention of moving anytime soon. He rearranged the blanket over her shoulders, feeling her hum and press closer. Her nearness, combined with the alcohol, was having far too much of an effect on his body. Then she shivered, and he decided that as comfortable as she was, they should at least get out of the cold.

“Hang on, princess,” was his only warning before he lifted her into his arms. She squeaked, a very un-Clarke sound, making him laugh. Then she adjusted her grip on him, nuzzling his neck, and his laugh cut off abruptly in a gasp. She was lucky he hadn’t dropped her right then and there. She didn’t seem to notice, though her hand remained on his neck, her splayed fingers setting fire to the patch of skin. 

Only when he’d gotten her inside a tent did she say, “Your pulse is too fast.”

 _No shit._ “Seeing as I just carried you over here, is that so surprising?” It wasn’t a total lie. It just had to do more with the girl he’d carried than the actual act of carrying.

When Clarke squinted at him for too long, he was surprised to see her frowning. “I guess not. I just thought…” she trailed off, and he found himself supremely curious about what she wouldn’t say.

Bellamy plopped next to her on the ground. “What did you think?”

She ducked her head, hiding behind a curtain of hair. “Nothing. It’s silly.” 

Oh, no. He was not letting her revert to her old self. The night wasn’t over yet. “Come on, Clarke.” He nudged her playfully. “It’s me.”

There was a moment when he was worried it was too late. But then her chin lifted and she grinned at him, suddenly childlike. “Fine. But it’s a secret, okay?”

Bellamy couldn’t help his smile, though his curiosity was sky high. God, she was a _cute_ drunk. “My lips are sealed,” he promised solemnly. But she still didn’t look convinced, so he repeated what he always used to tell Octavia when they were younger. 

“Pinky swear?” He held up his hand, pinky finger out. 

Her face lit up in surprise, and her pinky wrapped around his. “Pinky swear.”

He waited patiently, their fingers still twisted together. Her eyes dropped to her lap and she bit her lip. It was the most nervous he’d ever seen her. There was silence for a good three minutes - not that he was counting the seconds or anything. 

“I thought maybe you wanted to kiss me.”

Thought it was only a whisper, she may as well have yelled it for all the effect it had on him. Time seemed to stop as his brain attempted to process her words. His ears rang. 

_Kiss me. Kiss. Me. kissmekissmekissme._

Then everything sped up as he registered what she’d said, and suddenly his heart was racing, his breath was shallow, and he was sweating like a teenager. Clarke was watching him nervously, still biting her lip, and he realized he hadn’t said a word.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” He groaned internally. _Way to sound like a 12-year-old, you moron._

But Clarke’s only response was a shy nod, and his heart began beating so fast he thought it was on a mission to burst right out of his chest. Gulping, he leaned down slowly, giving her time to draw back or for the world to find a way to screw this up. When their noses brushed, he paused, just in case. He heard her irritated huff, and then he was yanked forward by his jacket.

Their lips collided, fumbling clumsily in their haste. It was strange, how they seemed to swap personality traits in this moment; she was suddenly impulsive where he was deliberate. Which resulted in a few seconds of bumping noses and brief, disjointed kisses. Even those small tastes were enough to make him dizzy - but more than anything, they just made him want her. All of her.

Then Bellamy tangled a hand in her hair and tilted his head just so, and their mouths slid together in harmony. The series of kisses turned into one long, consuming kiss that made him feel even more drunk. Clarke moaned softly, and the current that ran through him when her tongue pushed into his mouth was better than any alcohol he’d had all night. Her hands slid under his jacket and around his back, pulling him closer. She tasted of schnapps and peaches and it made his head swim.

When he finally broke away, she was flushed and bright-eyed and beautiful, and he took just a second to gulp air before kissing her again. She returned it eagerly, her arms stretching up to run her fingers through his hair in a way that made him wonder if she’d been thinking about this as long as he had. 

Much of the night passed this manner, as he found the spot behind her ear that made her gasp his name in a wonderfully throaty way and she discovered that her nails against his skin made him lose control and just kiss her harder. 

~~~~~~~~

The next morning, Bellamy was the first to wake. He lifted his head blearily to see Clarke wrapped around him - fully clothed. He hadn’t been _that_ far gone last night, though it had taken no small amount of sheer will to stop when they did. Her leg was wedged between both of his, and her hair splayed wildly around her face, which was for once not creased in thought. Her chest rose and fell with steady, quiet breaths. Her arm wrapped around his abdomen, clutching him tight as she burrowed further into his side. 

The thought occurred to him that he’d be more than happy to never move again.

He allowed himself to linger for several minutes, just watching the girl who’d taken over his heart. Then, he carefully disentangled their limbs, unable to help pressing a kiss to her cheek all the same. Feeling inside his jacket, he found the small notebook he’d taken from her the night before and ripped off a small square of paper, leaving a note for her to meet him later for the herbs. 

It was still early when he ducked out of her tent, so most people weren’t up yet. He preferred it that way. Whether Clarke would remember the previous night or not _(god, he hoped she did),_ he knew they’d both want it to remain quiet either way. At least for a while. There were enough problems without the camp gossip adding to it.

Still, the memory of her lips against his remained with him throughout the morning, and he found himself smiling while everyone else groaned and nursed their hangovers. As expected, the day became busy quickly, and found himself running around between guards and adults and kids, half playing messenger and half trying not to knock their skulls together. When the time finally came to meet Clarke, he was already tired.

He saw her before she saw him. She was standing by the gate, her back to him as she watched the kids work on the latest construction project. Her loose hair spilled in wild curls over her shoulders, making his fingers itch to glide through it all over again. He curled them into the strap of his rifle, in a vain attempt not to be a moron and plant one on her in front of the entire camp. Part of his brain noted that she looked relatively fresh, though she kept rubbing her forehead.

“Morning, princess,” he called cheerily.

Clarke turned, her eyes narrowed nearly to slits in accusation. “You.”

 _Well, fuck._ That couldn't be a good sign.

“‘Just relax, princess, you need a drink, princess,’” she mocked in a low voice, and he tried very hard to suppress his grin. “My head is very angry with you right now,” she informed him grumpily.

“I would say sorry, except that you were having a great time last night and you definitely needed it.”

“Well I wish I could remember it,” she snarked back, and his good mood plummeted in the span of a heartbeat.

“Oh.” He blinked, suddenly at odds with the entire universe. _Of fucking course_ he wasn’t allowed this single solitary wonderful thing. “I am sorry, then.” Clarke looked surprised at his abrupt shift in demeanor, but he started walking before she could comment on it. “Come on, let’s get going. We don’t want to be out there too long.”

She hurried to catch up to him, slinging her pack over her shoulder as he handed her notebook back without meeting her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, then seemed to think better of it. They stopped in a few spots while she filled her pack, happily crossing items off her list. He followed her through the woods, trying and failing not to watch the pencil between her teeth and forehead scrunched in thought while she studied her notebook. Why did she have to be so damn cute doing the most normal thing? 

Bellamy was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t hear her say his name. When she halted, he continued to stomp ahead without thinking. Then her pinky wrapped around his.

He stopped abruptly. Even the simple touch had set his nerves tingling in a way none other ever had - and likely never would. _Well done, Blake. You’re a complete goner for a girl who doesn’t even remember your first kiss._ Exhaling heavily, he closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable moment that she would pull away and begin scolding him for not paying attention.

It never came. Instead, there was a pointed squeeze of his pinky.

Something akin to glee shot through his veins. He opened his eyes. Clarke was smiling shyly as she stepped closer. “I thought… I thought you didn’t remember?” He croaked. His voice sounded like _he_ was the one with the hangover.

Clarke shook her head. “I meant, I didn’t remember a lot of what happened _before_... this. Of course I remember _you.”_ The look on her face said he was an idiot for even considering otherwise. “I just didn’t want to say anything back at camp, because…”

Bellamy was so relieved he thought he might float away. “Pinky swear.”

“Pinky swear,” she agreed. Her fingers hooked around his belt loop as if to keep him in place, but she needn’t have worried. He wasn’t going anywhere. Ever.

“So _that’s_ why you dragged me out here so far from camp,” he teased.

An eyebrow arched despite her lovely blush. “Are you complaining?”

“Never,” he grinned, and closed the gap between them to kiss her soundly.

He was still picking twigs from his hair when they returned to camp much later. As Clarke turned towards the medical tent, Bellamy spotted a bright green leaf sticking out from her blonde curls and grinned. Tugging her shirt, he crooked a finger at her. When he pulled the small leaf out and pointedly tucked it into his pocket, her vibrant flush returned. Bellamy laughed. 

Their secret wasn’t going to last very long at this rate. Try as he might, he couldn’t really bring himself to care.


End file.
